


The Crash of Waves

by nevereatdirt



Series: NEDWrites Oneshots [20]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Bulges and Nooks, Gentle Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Tentabulges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereatdirt/pseuds/nevereatdirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name has long been forgotten by all but you, and the troll that you assume to be your young descendant is standing in front of you.  He shakes, knowing that he's treading in dangerous waters, but you can't help but to take pity on him since he's somehow found his way into the ship you call your hive.  Not only that, but he's in your private quarters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crash of Waves

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to issiekay for having a ton of the ideas for this and getting my lazy ass started on what is now my longest one shot ever and as of 5/18/14 the longest completed dualeri fic on AO3. So let's all have a big round of applause while I go treat what will probably carpal tunnel someday.

Leaning back on your captain's recuperation platform, you study the young troll in front of you. He's entered your hive unannounced and has taken to just staring at you, eyes wide as if he can't believe what he's seeing. You can tell just from his horns that he's your descendant, and the fact that he wears your sign in deep violet on his chest only serves to solidify that. He looks so much different that you did at his age, but so much the same in little ways. Though you still feel like he's broken some sort of unspoken rule by simply being here.

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes at him and note how his fins pin back and his face turns a deep shade of violet. He must be scared shitless standing in front of you. After all, even to an aged seadweller you're huge and intimidating. So to him, someone that you guess is barely into his double digits, you must look like a mountain of fangs and horns and scars. Sighing, you lean forward so that you're closer to his level and give him a reassuring grin. “I'm guessin' you know who I am, lad.” He nods dumbly, never taking his amethyst eyes off of you. “Then no introduction is necessary. At least for me.” You laugh softly and push a strand of violet hair from your face. “Though you got me wonderin' here, lad. Who are you?”

The question makes him straighten up and square his shoulders like he's actually been called to attention in your fleet of naval officers. It would be charming if he weren't so obviously terrified and awestruck. “I'm Eridan Ampora, sir! I'm your descendant.”

You nod and motion for him to come closer. “I know that you're my descendant, lad. I can recognize my own sign an' horns when I see 'em.” You laugh again as he draws nearer and lean back again.

“I... I mean a course you do. You've probably seen tons a trolls close to our caste so I guess that I must stand out cause a my horns...” He mutters to himself and you find the whole thing incredibly pitiable as he does.

“Come here, lad.” You pat your lap and smile up at him. “Come have a seat with me an' we'll have a nice little chat.” He looks you over and you see him shaking as he comes closer to you, finally sitting on your lap as he was asked. He sits awkwardly and stiffly, but you wrap an arm around him, rubbing at his shoulder. “Don't be nervous. I ain't gonna hurt you.” You keep your voice low and soft to try and keep him at ease as best as you can.

It seems to work as you feel him relax under your touch. His fins flutter as he looks at you and up close you can better see the resemblance between the you. Waiting for him to relax enough to speak you just study him, taking in the features that you know are from you and trying to figure out which lover or quadrantmate gave him the others. His features look like they could cut anyone that touched them, even someone with a hide as tough as yours. It's a stark contrast to his voice when next he speaks. “I can't believe I finally found you.”

You raise an eyebrow, a soft smile on your face. “You've been lookin' for me?” You practically whisper as you speak, hand still rubbing gently at his shoulder.

“I have.” He swallows thickly and you're a little surprised when he leans his forehead against yours. “Ever since I found out about you. An' everythin' you've done...”

You close yours eyes and just sigh. “I done a lot a things, Eri. Some I ain't so proud a, but others... I think they turned out all right.”

He sits in silence for a little while, the only sound between you your breathing and his rapid pulse. Voice shaky and still soft he speaks again, breath a chilly and familiar warmth against your lips. “You changed my life.”

It's your turn to swallow now as you wonder just how you with your life so full of blunders and mistakes and misfortune has affected this young, impressionable troll. What has he heard about you? What has he  _actually_ learned? You don't have the heart to ask him. To find out if you're the legend that he so obviously wants you to be. So instead you ask something else. “Oh really, lad? An' how'd I do that?”

You can hear him licking his lips slowly, obviously thinking through what he's about to say before his words come so quietly that you you have to strain to hear them. “I found what you left for me. It was in a shipwreck near my hive...” He swallows again and you can feel him trembling as he reaches his thin arms up to drape over your shoulders. “Knowin' that you were so great made me wanna be the best troll I could be. It seemed like you knew everythin' and what was gonna happen an' when...”

You sigh and open your eyes halfway. “A course I don't know everythin', Eri. I just happen to be literally ancient. You must know that if you were brave enough to find me.”

He stares back at you, still partially grey eyes not quite focusing on any part of your face. “I actually didn't know you were alive...” He leans back a little, worrying at his lower lip with sharklike teeth so much like your own. “Everythin' I'd heard said that you'd died tellin' a horrible joke.”

You give a barking and tilt your head back. “So that's what they thought happened to the Imperial Orphaner, eh?” You look back to him, a cheeky grin on your face. “But if you'd heard that I'd died, then how did you find me here?”

He swallows thickly again and his eyes dart down then back up. “An old black fling a mine said she had an idea where you'd be... So I came here an' well... She was right, the bitch.” He huffs a laugh and looks away like he's in pain at the thought.

The forlorn expression of pity-struck pain is one that you know well. And it seems like he's followed in your footsteps as he seems to have vacillated from pitch to flush. You move your hand from his shoulder to cup his face. “I'm glad you did, lad. I didn't even realize that anyone had found that old wreck.” You trace your thumb against his sharp cheekbone and are amazed at how soft his skin is.

You really should be, though. He's so  _young_ and new to the world yet. Though it doesn't change the tug of pity on your hemopusher. He leans forward again, resting your foreheads together as he nuzzles into your hand. A nervous look crosses his face and you you just keep moving your hand softly and slowly in an attempt to let him know that it's okay. That you're here for him. His breath stutters as you trace your thumb near the curve of his lower lip, and he does what you assume must be a daring move for him.

He leans in and presses the softest of kisses to your lips before pulling away.

It's barely there, and more than a little unskilled to say the least, but your old pusher can't help but to flutter at the soft touch against your scarred skin. You hold his face and lean in, pressing a kiss of your own to his full, soft lips. The touch is so intimate and so fleeting that you aren't sure if either of you had really done that. But the smile spread across his face tells you that you have. That he wants to keep going. And who are you to deny him?

You trace your fingers over his smooth skin to the tines of his fin. He lets out a soft breath and the tiniest of smiles stays on his lips. You move your fingers slowly over the velvety membrane and listen as he purrs. The sound isn't as low as your own, but you can still feel it reverberating through him. It's enough to make you want to kiss him again, so you do. A quiet squeak leaves him as he leans in like he's never been kissed before, or maybe like he never wants to stop kissing.

Whatever his eagerness may be from, you aren't sure, but it doesn't stop you from returning it with aplomb. You part your lips and suck idly at his lower, letting your teeth drag along it. He whines before pulling back, a soft shade of violet dusting his face as he shakes his head.

You tilt your head, furrowing your brow. “What's wrong, Eri?” You keep your voice low, doing your best to keep it comforting.

He worries at his lip before licking along where your fangs had dragged. “I just... I don't want this to be all fangs an' fuckin' if that's what you're goin' for...” He averts his gaze and you let him. What he's said makes sense in a way, though you aren't sure why he thinks that it's going to lead there.

“All right, darlin' dearest, no fuckin' I get it.” You smile at him and press a kiss to his forehead. “I'll just tell you stories about old wars an' battles instead. Maybe kiss you silly.” You laugh softly as you trace over his fin again.

A sigh passes his lips and he closes his eyes. “I'd like that. I'd fuckin' love all a that...” He moves his arms and lets his hands rest against your face. “But, uh, fuckin' seems so... I dunno. _Angry_.” He frowns and lets his fingertips trace along your countless scars, but avoiding the two you'd earned your name from.

“Fuckin' ain't angry, Eri. It's just... Fiery. Passionate.” You swallow as he traces slowly above your gills.

“But it's still just so... _Visceral_... An' I mean, I like the idea a that but...” He shakes his head. “If we do that... I want it to be like... I dunno. Different.”

You let your eyes wander over his face, piecing together what he means. “It can't really be different if we ain't done nothin' at all lad.” You smile again and give him a wink, hands rubbing idly to keep him calm. “But if you got an idea a what you want, then you should lead. I'll let you do what you will.” With a bit of a heaved sigh, you move the two of you back and lay down with him on top of you.

As you move, he lets out a tiny gasp but stays close to you. Though you'd like him to lay on you, he rolls off and curls against you like a wriggler. Laying beside him like this you can tell that he's a little taller than you'd pegged him at first, but his slight frame makes him seem that much smaller. You close your eyes and just hold him, letting him calm down as you think of something for the two of you to talk about. He wanted to know more about you, didn't he? It seems like he'd been interested before, and you do have a habit of just talking on end when your old victories are brought up.

With a sigh, you stare up at the ceiling as you decide on your tale. “When I was about your age, ten sweeps, yeah?”

He pulls closer to you and nuzzles into your neck like he's never had anyone to hold him or care for him. Which you realize is a definite possibility for one of your caste, especially when they still live on planet like this boy. “Yeah. I turned ten at the start of the dim season in the first winter.”

You smile and nod. “Funny, if I remember right my wriggling day is around then, too.”

Glancing down you see his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. “You don't remember?”

“It's hard to remember such a insignificant date once you get to be my age, lad. But when I was maybe twenty...”

“I thought you said you were ten?”

You look down at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Did I? The age doesn't really matter to me anymore. I'm too old for it anymore.” You huff a laugh and nod. “But this is the story of how I became the Imperial Orphaner.”

His eyes light up with a wriggler like innocence and a grin spreads over his face like his lusus brought in the most magnificent behemoth leaving for twelfth perigee's eve. “Really? I've heard the story of how you became the Orphaner!” He pulls closer and holds onto you tightly, staring up as he waits.

You had a feeling that he'd know this story. Or at least a _version_ of your story. So you clear your throat and just run your fingers over Eridan's arm as you look up at the ceiling. “As I was sayin' then. I was ten or twenty when I'd joined the fleet. Probably ten if I'm bein' honest, a troll a twenty sweeps joinin' is fuckin' unheard a, even back then.” You laugh softly as you think about it, but you go on. “I was fresh faced an' unscarred then. Hadn't even earned my adult name yet. Seems we got that much in common. No adult age at ten? I was considered a late bloomer, but so far as I was concerned all those fuckers were just jumpin' the gun an' pickin' things that they'd forget the meanin' a by the time they hit a hundred.

“But not me. I wanted to have a name I'd know the meanin' a for the rest a my life. Guess I did all right there.” You snort and Eridan laughs with you, burying his face against your neck and murmuring for you to go on. So you do. “At any rate I joined the fleet an' was one a the only ones without an adult name there, which was why it was fuckin' hilarious to all the others there when I said I was next to be the Imperial Orphaner. I mean for fuck's sake I was a whelp of a troll. Barely even adult sized, skinny as a twig, an' had a ego the size a the second moon.

“All that aside, I was convinced a my place. Back then only high violets could be the Orphaner. Not like now where there's what, a fuckin' _cobalt_ one? No fuckin' pride in that. They can't even get down into the ocean to get the food to the Heiress's lusus an' keep it from killin' us all.” You roll your eyes. “Fuckin' ridiculous. A cobalt troll in line to challenge an Orphaner in my day woulda been culled on the fuckin' spot _no questions_ but now all this “equality” bullshit's got everyone thinkin' they can do anythin' an' do you _really_ believe that a blueblood piece a shit got any place in the fleet, let alone as the highest commandin' officer? No. They don't.”

You huff and realize that you've gotten off track, but you aren't really sure where you even were. Furrowing your brow you stare up at the ceiling like it has your answer, but then you have to own up to your own forgetfulness. “Where was I before I was talkin' about the hemospectrum?”

“Being convinced of your place as the Orphaner.” His answer is _fast_ and you can't help but to be a little jealous of his youth. But with age you do tend to become a little forgetful. You've seen it happen to other trolls in their early hundreds. You're honestly lucky that you're so high up and that only the Empress herself will ever outlive you.

Nodding, you give him a little squeeze. “Right, right. Thanks lad. As I was sayin' I was convinced a my place an' none a the other trolls were gonna convince me that I wasn't gonna be next. So I trained my hardest. Pickin' fights with any troll that I could an' fuckin' any that'd let me. Lemme just say that I was a piece a shit. Grew outta that, but seems I was always easier to hate than others. Probably comes with the territory a bein' fuckin' royalty.” You roll your eyes again and sigh. “Eventually I proved what a tough fucker I was, an' in only five sweeps I became the youngest Imperial Orphaner on record.”

You hear him gasp softly and he presses a kiss to your neck. “I knew that. I always wanted to be like you. To be the Orphaner...”

You sigh softly at the little kiss and close your eyes. “It ain't all fun an' games. Learned that the hard way before earnin' my name.”

“Really? I always thought that you gotta pick your name before you got your title!”

You shake your head and give his arm another squeeze. “Nope. At least you don't _have_ to. I was one a the oldest trolls I knew that didn't have my name yet. But the day I got it was somethin' special.” You nod in fond remembrance. “I'd just turned thirty, I know that much, an' I'd been called for an audience with Her Imperial Condescension in honor a bein' such a lethal Orphaner at such a young age. Or that's what I'd thought. Turned out there was already a challenger for my spot. He was nearly two hundred an' I was fuckin' _thirty_. He towered over me an' just made me feel like a wriggler bein' confronted by a wild howl beast.

“The Empress watched while the two a us dueled 'to the cull' as she called it. I'd never fought someone as big as him. Haven't met a lot a fuckers his size since either. But I still managed to cull him.” You move your hand up to run along your gnarled, aged scars that earned you your name. “He was fast. Fought with daggers an' was slippery as a fuckin' eel... Can't say I ever seen a troll as angry as him in my life, especially not when I broke his fuckin' leg with the butt a my rifle.

“An' as we fought the crowd cheered an' jeered taunts of Ampora an'... Fuck what was his name? Somethin' like Zephos? I can hardly remember but he had jagged horns an' seemed like he was makin' up for bein' such a low violet. That's why I knew that I couldn't lose. How could I lose to a fucker that was barely a seadweller? Even with my vision half fucked by violet I still fought him. An' fuck I'd rather a fucked him than fought him if I'm bein' honest. I even looked for his descendants sweeps an' sweeps after that, but the poor fuck probably wasn't strong enough for his color to be passed on at all.

“In total he got eleven hits on me an' I got three on him. Two a his marred my face for life, an' one a mine ended his. Which really was a cryin' shame. Before that I'd seen him on the battlefield an' he coulda been a great officer. But just not an Orphaner.” You sigh and close your eyes, feeling Eridan press soft kisses against your neck again. “When he finally fell an' I was covered in blood, I knelt before Her Imperial Condescension an' bowed my head. I told her my name an' she told me to get the fuck outta the room an' clean myself up.”

He peppers more kisses along your neck and jaw and the feeling makes you purr softly. So few of your partners have ever been this sweet to you that it makes you hope that he'll stay for a while. Maybe even sweeps if you're lucky. But then you're never lucky, are you? “That's how you earned your name?”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah. I earned it by bein' fucked up by a troll seven times my age an' winnin'. So really the meanin' behind it is more to remind myself that, even as high as I am, I ain't impervious. I'm too old for all that shit now. I'd rather just stay on my fuckin' ship an' live the rest a my life adventurin' than feedin' Gl'bgloyb and baby sittin' Heiresses.”

He sits in silence for a little, still nuzzling against your neck and kissing along your torn and scarred fins. “I did that for a while. I fed her.” His voice is soft and nervous. “You were right about a cobalt Orphaner. It's just a title for them. I'm the only one that can help Fef, er, the Heiress feed her lusus.”

“It's a tough job, ain't it? I don't even know which Heiress is alive anymore. Last I'd heard it was some punk barely into adolescence an' idolizin' the Empress to no end. That her?”

He shakes his head and presses a little kiss between your scars. “No. Fef's sweet. She's so fuckin' sweet it makes my pusher ache. But then she can be cruel as the Condescension herself when she wants.”

You tilt your head some and kiss his lips softly, to tell him that it's okay. “How old is she?”

“She's ten. A little younger than me, actually.”

“Then you're doin' a good job a protectin' her.” You lock your eyes with his and put your hand back on his face. “Not many Heiresses ever live that long. You done a good job.”

He smiles at you before bringing his lips to yours again and sucking at your lower. It seems that he's made up his mind as to what he wants as he rolls on top of you again. This time it seems like he's looking for more than just the kisses that the two of you are exchanging. Like he wants to be even closer, which is something that you're more than willing to oblige. You can feel his hands tracing along your gills again and he moves them so _slowly_ and reverently that you aren't even sure if he's touched another seadweller this way.

The thought sends a shiver down your spine and you just rest your hands at his hips, rubbing circles slowly. His weight rests on your sheathe and it forces a soft moan from you. Even as old as you are, just the sheer innocence of his kisses and the vibration of his purrs makes you want him. He seems so desperate for someone to care. And in all honesty you _do_ and each touch along your neck has a prickling softness that you've only known from your most flushed of partners.

You move your hands up from his hips and under his shirt, trying to help him get it off. He leans back and looks down at you with a parted lips and a brow furrowed with worry. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before pulling off his long sleeved shirt and throwing it to the side. Just as you'd thought he's skin and bone but he'll grow into his frame. He'll fill out into a troll your size someday, you know that much. But for now he's such a pitiable little thing that all you want to do is just hold him.

But he doesn't lean down again. He runs his hands down your chest and over the cold metal of the armor you don't need anymore. He swallows and tilts his head. “Are you, um... Are you going to take this off?”

You smile and lean your head back laughing softly. “A course, lad, don't get all nervous on me now. Let a old troll up so he can get this shit off.”

He nods and rolls off of you, watching you assume as you pull off the outer layers of your armor. You wear it more from habit than anything else, but the tight fabric beneath it is nice to get off your skin. You hum contentedly as you feel yourself exposed to the room and turn around to see Eridan with his knees pulled to his chest. “Nervous lad?”

He nods again and his fins stretch and flutter. “Fuckin' nervous as shit.”

You tilt your head as you undo your belt slowly. “Why are you so nervous?” You give him a warm smile as you push your hair back. “Never done this before?”

His fins pin down and his face and flush the richest of violets. “Not with someone as big as you.”

You snort and tilt your head forward as you laugh, rubbing idly at your temples. “Lad, what did I say earlier?”

“What?”

“You were gonna take the lead, remember?” You move your hand from your face and just shake your head before pulling off your belt and letting your trousers drop. You step out of them, kicking them aside as you sit back on the bed, pulling your boots and socks off. “You don't gotta do nothin' you don't wanna, all right lad?” You toss the footwear aside and move back on the bed. You're left naked in front of him and he just stares.

It's obvious that he's never been in the presence of a fully grown troll. Your skin is just a shade darker and your body is tougher and scarred than from what you can see of his. He swallows and stays sitting next to you as you lay back on your platform. His fingertips trace down your chest again, brushing against scars and the ridges of your muscles with a look like he's come face to face with an ancient god.

Which you suppose you must be, in a sense, to him.

As he moves over your gills you purr softly and he just stares up at you. “Is this okay?”

“A course.” You keep your voice level and soft when you speak to him, making sure that you don't scare him

He smiles soft and leans in to press soft kisses to each ugly violet scar decorating your torso. You wear them with honor but, unsurprisingly, they've all terrified your partners in the past. This boy doesn't understand the connotation with the scars. What it _truly_ means to be so marred. Why it is that you are, in fact, terrifying to any troll that lays eyes on you, with the exception of the Empress.

But his lips press against your skin like he's trying to comfort you. Or maybe like he's trying to comfort himself. Whatever his reasoning, the sensation makes your bulge press against your sheathe. He seems to notice when he leans back, as all he does is stare down at your parting sheathe. With a trembling lower jaw he leans down, pressing an open mouthed kiss there. His tongue presses past the tough outer skin and laps along the lips of your sheathe.

The only way that you can describe such a foreign sensation is as unbelievably intimate. So few trolls ever use their mouths even when they're been quadranted for sweeps, but this boy has only been here for a few hours at most and his tongue is brushing along the tip of your still sheathed bulge. You reach a hand down to brush through his hair and let your thumb rub near the base of his horn.

He trills and the vibrations go through his tongue. You arch your back as you feel it against your oversensitive tip as he keeps his lips sealed over your sheathe. Your bulge begins to unsheathe as he kisses and licks at you, and soon you can feel his sharp teeth against your skin. You hiss softly, but he unhinges his jaw a little and drags his tongue along it before sucking at what little of you is out.

You watch him as he moves, his actions like something out of dreams you'd had as an adolescent. He's smooth but unpolished, though he still has you letting out low little moans and whimpers with each touch and suck. You chew at your lip, noting each small shift of his against you and the way his fins stretch and flutter as his head bobs. It's almost ethereal to see what could almost be a ghost of your youth with your bulge in his mouth, but it doesn't seem to change the fact that he's enjoying himself.

In so many other circumstances, you would think of terrible filthy things to say to any troll willing to purr and trill around your bulge. But it strikes you as inappropriate to do that to this boy after he talked about not wanting to _fuck_. In your youth that wouldn't have made any sense, but you suppose with at least a thousand sweeps behind your fins you understand it. You move your hand slowly from his horn to the back of his neck and he turns his bespectacled gaze up to you. The glasses make him seem so much younger than he is. But then he's hardly even an adult as it stands.

Ten? You don't even remember the difference between being ten and being twenty.

As the two of you watch each other more of your bulge snakes out from its sheathe and he lets out a surprised little squeak. “You all right down there, Eri?”

He looks back up to you with wide, scared eyes and pulls off with a faint, wet pop. “I wasn't expectin' there to be so much more...” He wipes dripping, violet lubricating material from his black lips and it just makes you laugh.

“Eri I'm ancient. My bulge is massive like I am. Can't really help that now can I?” You shake your head and squeeze the back of his neck gently.

“I can't take this much in me...” He pouts almost comically, his fins pinning down and his lower lip jutting out like a disappointed wriggler getting grubloaf instead of cotton candy as a treat.

With a roll of your eyes you sit up, looking down at him. “Eridan fuckin' Ampora you're gonna earn the title a the Ignorant if you ain't careful. You don't have to take my bulge. It ain't like you don't got one a your own pressin' against the front a your trousers there.”

He gives you a confused look before looking down at his pants and seeing the writhing mass of his bulge straining against the fabric. “Wait you mean I could... You wanna feel my bulge?” His words are quiet and you can hear the utter nervousness in them, but he just seems so surprised.

You run your hands along his sides and rest your face in his hair. “Eri, you said you wanted this to be soft an' sweet. My bulge is only gonna hurt you if you think it's too big now.”

You can't see his reaction but you assume that he's probably got his brow furrowed. “Is there _more_ to your bulge than that?”

“Aye, that's maybe half a it.” And it is. You've never had the good fortune of finding a troll that could take your bulge entirely, but it's really never bothered you that much.

The two of you sit in silence for what feels easily like fifteen minutes just feeling the cool heat of each other's skin until he finally pulls away from you. His actions catch you off guard until he slips off the platform and, with shaking hands, he begins to undo the buttons of his trousers. He lets them drop and pulls them off, standing in front of you with just his underwear and his glasses. You give him a nod and he pulls the glasses off before undressing the rest of the way.

You decide that you were wrong about his glasses making him look younger. Without them he's like a wide-eyed, nervous wriggler in the face of his lusus for the first time. He wears such a pititable expression well as he gets back on the platform and kneels between your legs. “I dunno if I can do this. What if I fuck up?”

You shrug a shoulder with a shake of your head. “Ain't nothin' to fuck up here. I trust you to figure it out.” Laying back you spread your legs, making it easier for him to get to your sadly under appreciated nook.

His face has flushed darkly again as you looks down at you, but he moves closer and you can feel the tip of his bulge move against your lips with the faintest of touches. A low moan escapes you and you lift your hips just a few inches for him. He wraps his hands under you and hold you as he comes closer. Your bulge writhes and curls, trying to twine with his or press into his nook, but you reach down and run your fingers along it in lazy strokes to keep it from doing anything to Eridan while he gets comfortable.

You can see the nervousness in his features as he positions his hips and tries to line himself up without letting his bulge do all the work. It seems so sweet and innocent an action for someone about to pail you, but it's still so charming that you can't help your small smile. He stares intently as your fingers twine with the writhing mass of your length and, finally, you can feel him begin to press into your folds.

It's a cool, familiar warmth not unlike the times you've self pailed, but it's so foreign at the same time. His ridges are smaller and closer together than yours and his movements are a little less controlled. It isn't long before his hips are against your and he's rocking ever so slowly against you. Each brush against your walls is the softer than the last and he fills you so nicely that you can't believe how poorly you've been pailed before. It seems like he was right about the difference between fucking and this.

Fucking is so carnal and fast, all thrusts and scratches and loud moans, begging for more.

But this is... Sweet and soft. Like the touch of a long time lover as you fall to sleep. Touches that seem to mean more than the words you've shared already but in such a way that the feeling is simply indescribable.

As he rolls and writhes slowly, his eyes close and his brow knits together in concentration so you take the opportunity to let go of your fully unsheathed bulge. You let it move against his smooth skin as your hands trace along his sides, fingertips tracing with reverence at his abdominal gills. He gasps and you feel the sporadic twitch of his bulge inside of you, making your breathing pick up as you move against him as well.

Your bulge curls and snakes, seeking wet heat as it moves slowly. When you feel it brush along the wet folds of Eridan's nook you hear him gasp out a pathetic little moan and you rest your hand against the side of his face. “This all right, Eri?” You're surprised at the airiness of your own voice, but you manage to keep it soft and level as you speak.

He nods, opening his eyes to look down at you. “Yeah. Yeah it's fine.” Another gasp escapes him as you press into his tight nook. “Fuck, you are big...” He laughs as he tilts his head, smiling at you warmly.

“Comes with the territory a bein' an old fucker.” He lets go of your hips as more of your bulge presses into him so you sit up a little. His arms drape over your shoulders again and your chests press flush against each other. One of your hands rests on his cheek, fingers brushing against the tines and membrane of one of his fins again while the other hand rests on his slender thigh.

You join your lips in a sweet kiss as both of your bulges curl and press softly. You hadn't expected this when he'd said that you were too big, but the feeling of his bulge buried inside of you as yours pulsates and squirms between his thighs and the lips of his nook is almost overwhelming. You can tell that his nook is deeper than he must think as you can't feel the brush of a back wall or the narrowing towards an end against your sensitive tip and even the thought of him being able to take the entirety of your bulge sends a shiver down your spine.

You rub along his thigh and you can feel him dripping around your bulge, which you can't help but to feel a little disappointed about. It means that his release is sneaking up on him even through your slow movements and gentle touches. But as his bulge curls against a sensitive bundle of nerves, you can't help but to whimper softly, leaning more into the kiss as your tongue traces against his lips.

This time his tongue snakes out to meet yours and they dance against each other slowly. You can taste the faintest hint of your own material on him and the salty tang is something that you would normally object to. But with his natural taste of salt and brine it makes for a combination that you've never known. It's enough to make you wonder if you have the same tinge of the sea as he does. You hope you do. Your entire life has been spent at sea and you at least think that that much has probably come off on you.

You roll your hips against his, trying to find the best position to connect with him for both of you. It takes a few minutes as you angle your hips and lift his thigh until you both let out the softest of sounds. You smile against his lips, letting your bulge move of its own accord inside of him as his does the same. With each brush against your walls you can feel yourself drawing closer to the edge and needing a release. You don't even have a fucking _pail_ but neither of you have said anything about one yet so you hope that he's alright being filled. You know that his nook has the room for your release, and you should be able to handle his as well.

He whimpers against your lips as your bulge coils inside of him and you grip his thigh tightly. The boy doesn't have any stamina for this and you really shouldn't have let your bulge snake into him while he was inside of you as well, but you couldn't resist that wet heat. He makes soft, chittering noises and you press kisses along his neck and jaw, much as he'd done to you earlier. You aren't sure if it calms him at all, or eases him through his climax, but it helps you to know that his noises are from pleasure.

He clings to you tightly. Desperately. Almost like he never wants you to leave him. Like you're the only thing tying him to Alternia. And in these moments of rocking hips and gentle touches you suppose that you very well might be just that.

Maybe the two of you are lifelines for each other now. It could be that he needs you. And it could easily be that you need him. He makes you pity in a way that you haven't since you were in your double digits and it's such a surreal feeling to have in your hemopusher. You let your lips drag along his flushed skin and your tongue laps lightly at his gills, touching the filaments and feeling as he tries to breathe through them. It's so strange to be on the opposite side of such an intimate touch. To feel his cool breath through his gills.

You know that each gasp and whimper he lets out may be a cry of pleasure, but each puff of breath from his gills is him telling you just how close to the edge he is. You run your fingertips over his damp skin, feeling the hurried beat of his pulse as his bulge writhes and twists inside you and yours in him. As your nose brushes his skin, you feel his lips at your fin as he whimpers in broken attempts at speech. He only manages soft squeaks and chirps which makes you realize how young and fragile he is.

Your hands move over his skin slowly as your own breathing picks up. You know that calming him through his orgasm is going to be important for him. That he wants things to be sweet and gentle, and you hope that this is it. Just the closeness and the lack of _teeth_ makes you feel like it is, so the hope that he thinks it is fills you. Your bulge curls tightly inside of him making him let out a long keen and dig his claws into your skin as he he rocks his hips faster. You move just as desperately against him, your hips rolling like the waves on the shore as each soft sound passes his lips and his release comes over him quickly.

His material rests in your nook and around your bulge as you continue your own rolling. He's left whimpering softly and murmuring in your ear as you curl and writhe inside of him. You aren't sure just how long he'll take to recover, but your hips rock slowly as he trills and claws your skin.

You'd thought that the way he'd curled around you before his climax had been needy and desperate, but it's nothing compared to how he clings now. His breathing is even more ragged than yours and for a moment you stop your movements. You trace your fingertips idly against his skin as he chirps softly into the crook of your neck. “Do you need to stop, Eri? I can finish myself off. It wouldn't be the first time.” You laugh softly as you speak before pressing light kisses along his fin.

The two of you stay twined as he shakes and lets out a soft trill against you before finally he speaks. “No. I want you to come in me. _Please_.” He nuzzles into you, lazily kissing your neck as he tries to level his breathing. “I can take it. Just... Keep going.”

It strikes you as almost a plea as he holds you, but you don't move again. Not right away. His bulge is still flicking inside of you, moving the material with slick, sloshing sounds that make you shudder.

Even in your adolescence you'd enjoyed being used as a pail. And being used as a pail by your descendant? That was even more thrilling.

After a moment that feels like a sweep, his bulge is writhing like he hadn't already come and you can't help the small pang of jealousy that he's recovered so quickly. It may take you longer to climax, but recovering takes longer too. His needy whimpers and nudges against your neck tell you that you can move again, just as he moves in you. His narrow hips rock slowly and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes with you.

You move with him, finding a rhythm like the sea as he loses his grasp on language again and is reduced to a chittering, trilling mess. As his lips brush against your neck, you let out a low moan and your bulge twitches excitedly inside of him as if it's searching for more contact. You almost wish that you were in a position to feel him completely around you, though the little whines he gives each time you tighten around his bulge or curl against a sensitive spot in his nook makes you reconsider that.

You know that it won't be long before he comes again. He's so oversensitive now from the first time that each movement must be unbearable. Pressing kisses along his neck and jaw again, this time you meet his lips and he returns the action with more vigor than you thought he would have left. It seems he's quite the fighter, your little descendant.

The kiss is little more than a needy clash of lips and tongues, but through your half lidded eyes you can see how his fins twitch and flare just as yours do. As you notice this tiny similarity, you close your eyes completely and laugh softly against him as you roll slowly into his nook. Each movement elicits soft moans from him and you're beginning to feel your own release drawing even closer. One of your hands rest at the back of his neck while the other rubs at the small of his back.

Each of his little trills and chirps spurs you on, knowing how he's begging with each sound for you to move a certain way or to speed up just a little. He's almost more demanding than you would have anticipated your descendant to be, but as you think about it he's probably the way you were at his age. He's taking so much from you that most trolls his age wouldn't be able to handle. He's already come once and he hasn't asked you to pull your bulge out of his nook, which tells you that he really must be deeper than he thinks.

You groan as you think about how much of your bulge might fit inside of him. Maybe you've finally found a partner that would be able to take the entirety of it. Or maybe you've just gotten your hopes up.

It really doesn't matter, though. He's gripping you so tightly that you could almost swear he was a vise and not a troll, but it seems to spur both of you on. You know that you've letting out little trills of your own, begging him to move and shift in ways that only two trolls in such an intimate setting can really understand. He responds to each sound with one of his own and, as his bulge curls tightly inside of you you can feel his torrent of material again.

He slumps in your arms with a soft whimper, and you know that he must feel entirely broken by this. Trolls aren't typically meant to come twice in such a short time, but he has and you can feel every drop of him inside of you. Your bulge moves slowly in his slurry and the sticky slickness makes you shudder, though you can feel him resheathing.

He's young, after all. It makes sense that he would only be able to handle coming twice.

You slow your movements even more as you feel him tensing around you and it's almost enough to make _you_ come on the spot. But you don't. You can feel as his bulge slides out of you, and feel the cool swell of his material as it leaks from your nook.

He murmurs sweet nothings against your skin and you can hardly understand as he speaks with your climax so close. You pull him against you and your bulge manages to move just a few inches further into his nook to a point that it feels like it's surrounded by nothing but his material. It must be unbearably painful for him like this and you're only going to make it worse when you come. But he'd said that he wanted to feel you come.

So you let him.

With a low growl of his name, you hold him close and your material releases. It's been so long since you've come. You can't even remember who your last lover was or what quadrant they were in. How many sweeps ago had you last pailed? At your age the drones stop coming around. They seem to expect you to be long dead, but here you are, pailing your own descendant.

The wet mess of your nook pales in comparison to the torrent from your bulge, and the whines that Eridan makes tell you that it must be more than normal even for you. You stay curled inside of him for only a few seconds before you resheathe slowly, the rich, violet slurry coming from his nook as you do.

With a sigh and a grin, you fall onto your back, taking him with you. He lays beside you, still whimpering softly as you help him push the material out. It's so much and you know that it would be a lot for even a troll your size. But he's done so well. And he's so beautiful and pitiable laying here with your joined colors coming from his nook.

The two of you may have the same sigil and the same horns, but your colors are still just a shade different. It comes, you suppose, from whomever your quadrantmate was. He's just a shade lower than you in a way that would be barely noticeable to anyone but a seadweller. But he's still on the highest spectrum of violets and would be beautiful even if he were in the lowest instead. Just the way his cheeks flush richly and his fins flutter while he breaths has you wanting to wrap yourself around him. To just hold him until the moons rise.

Though you suppose that you can do that. He doesn't seem to have anywhere to go, and neither do you. Despite having a captain's block you really don't have anything that you need to be doing. You're a figurehead on a ship that barely even qualifies with you as the only real crew member now, and you don't even have to report to the Empress anymore. Which is all for the best. Reporting would mean that you'd have to mention this.

And you want this to be something for just the two of you.

He whimpers softly as he curls into your chest and all that you can do is run your hands along his smooth skin. You can feel the soft vibrations of his purring as he wraps his arms around your chest, nuzzling against you like a needy wriggler. Which compared to you he really is. But you don't mind this closeness or the way he chirps and trills at you, asking you to just hold him. Really he doesn't have to, but he doesn't know that.

You aren't sure how long the two of you lay twined with each other, or even it it's been more than just a moment, but soon he moves up so that his head is beside your shoulder. With a sigh, you hold him and roll onto your back. You could almost fall to sleep with him curled against you, but before you can you hear him let out a little groan and laugh softly. Looking down at him, you see that he's staring up at you with half lidded eyes and a smile spread over his face.

“Glad to see you enjoyed that, Eri. I'd hate to think I'd hurt you.” Your fingertips glide over his skin and he lets out another appreciative hum.

He nuzzles his head against your shoulder and holds you tightly. “You didn't hurt me. Was I all right? Did I do okay?” He looks back up at you with wide, plaintive eyes and his brow furrowed ever so slightly.

You just give him a smile of your own before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “You did fine, lad.”

You hear him swallow thickly and his fins pin back. “Would you... Would you do that with me again sometime? I mean if the timin' was right an' things were goin' the right way...” He looks down, a pout crossing his beautiful features.

The sight actually makes you laugh a little. “Eridan Ampora. You are a ridiculous wriggler. A _course_ I'd do that with you again.” You move your hand up to cup his face and kiss him again, trailing softly against his lips and jaw.

He trills quietly and you feel his fins flutter, reassuring you that he's feeling a little better. “Good... I was worried that you wouldn't...” He stays silent as your hands rub him lightly, tracing idle shapes against his skin.

You don't dare break the silence, but you can hear the rocking of the waves against the boat. You'd hardly even noticed while he was talking to you and while the two of you were pailing, but now it takes you back to your youth. It reminds you of the day time lullabies you'd listened to as you would sink into your recuperacoon as a boy. The soft feeling of sopor and the coolness of it against your skin nothing more than a faint memory now.

After all, you've long outgrown your 'coon and have taken to sleeping on a platform as all adult trolls do when they live long enough.

Even the memory is a comfort and you can feel the crash of waves lulling you to sleep, but before you can Eridan is pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. “Can you tell me another story?”

You look down and meet his gaze. He's looking up at you with such innocence that you can hardly believe that he's the same troll that you'd held in a rocking of hips and passion. But he is. You smile and tilt your head to the side. “What kinda story you wanna hear, lad?”

He purses his lips as he thinks, fins pinning and flaring before they twitch idly. He pulls a hand away from you and pushes his hair back. “Tell me one that happened in the rebellion? Maybe how you disappeared.”

You laugh and nod. “That's a good one. I bet you heard all sorts a things about what happened to me an' where I went, yeah?”

He laughs and nods. “Everyone thought you were long dead. But I knew better... I found your trunk an' all the things you left me an' I _knew_ that you weren't dead.” He nuzzles against your shoulder again. “What happened?”

You settle back against your pillow and think of where best to begin. “All right, well. This is a long as fuck story in all honesty. But it's a good one.” You sigh, fins fluttering as you finally find the beginning of events. “It started when I got into a kismesitude that was destined for failure. It was a game for her, an' I was too flushed for me own good. Even at three hundred sweeps I was still just a young an' selfish thing. Prone to wantin' what I couldn't have in all honesty.”

He kisses your collarbone again, nuzzling into you. “I know how that feels... It's the fuckin' worst...”

“Ay. It really is the worst. Feelin' flushed for someone that don't feel that way is real rough on the hemopusher, even at my age.” You trail your fingers through his hair, fingers brushing idly at the base of his horn. “But it seemed she didn't understand that. She had a slave that she tried to use against me. To make me jealous.” You grip his shoulder and heave a heavy sigh. “An' really it worked.

“She had me worked up in a frenzy a rage an' jealousy. Fuckin' bitch had a way with words that makes me sick now.” You roll your eyes with another sigh. “But, in my jealousy, I went inland to talk to the Highblood. That purple fuck lounged in his throne like he owned the whole a Alternia an' with anyone else I would just hit 'em with a shot a the Crosshairs. But no. I had to be amicable with him.

“So I was given permission for an audience with him. Can you imagine? Me? Needing an audience with anyone lower than the Empress herself! Let alone someone that didn't even have fuckin' _gills_... The nerve a landdwellers thinkin' that just 'cause they outnumber us they run the place... Fuckin' ridiculous.” You huff and furrow your brow. “Fuck, where was I?” You hum, thinking to yourself as you find your place again.

“Right. I gained an audience with the Highblood an' I still had to wait in his filthy throne room while he did _fuck_ all in his back room. For all I know he was fuckin' some lowblooded filth while I had to stand in his fuckin' blood drenched throne room and wonder just why I was even there.”

“Why were you there?”

You blink in surprise and stare down at him. “I was there to turn in the bitch that stole my heart. After all, if I couldn't have her then no one would. She'd escaped subjugglation once an' I wasn't gonna let it happen again. Not when my fight against those dice wieldin' midbloods was drawin' to an end. Thinkin' that just cause they lived on the sea they were my equals.” You roll your eyes.

“I used to FLARP things like that...”

“Oh? What's that?”  
His face flushes and he looks away. “Ferocious Live Action Role Playing...”

You frown and furrow your brow. “Ain't sure what that is, but all right.” You shrug a broad shoulder, thinking back to where you were again. “Anyway. Where the fuck was I?”

“You were in the Highblood's throne room.” He's quick to remind you. You really are more than a little jealous of his youth, but he can't help that. He honestly makes you wonder what partner is his other sire. But you'll never know, will you? Not when he came from the same incestuous slurry as all your kind on Alternia do.

You nod as you gain your bearings on the story. “Right. Standin' in that fucker's throne room. There were so many fuckin' crude paintin's on the wall that I could hardly stand the smell a the place. It smelled like death an' sick an' piss an' more sopor than I ever could a imagined. But there I was.” You sigh as you think about it. “I'd been there once before to report a lowblood that had escaped me an' he'd seen me an' listened to me wihtout any qualms. But both of us had gotten older an' angrier over the sweeps.

“Apparently for him to even consider my claim then he'd have to hear some kind a fuckin' _joke_ an' I ain't exactly the jokin' type.”

“You don't say? I think you're a bag a fuckin' laughs.” Eridan gives you a cheeky grin and you just stare him down until both of you laugh, shaking your heads.

“Aye, lad. I'm just a barrel a fun. But not everyone thinks so. As I was sayin'. I had to tell this fucker a joke, an' I'd thought a the perfect one. You know the one that's like 'He's not an eggplant, he's an retarded!' yeah?”

He bursts out laughing and nods. “Oh fuck that one's great. It's that fuckin' old, though?”

“Yeah it's old as sin an' it's always been hilarious. But I never even got to tell it.” You sigh and shake your head, still disappointed that it happened that way at all. “He came into the room and slumped back in his disgustin' excuse for a throne to just stare me down through his paint an' his mess a hair. We stared at each other for what felt like hours an' then he said to me 'You'd best make this quick, I don't got time.'

“An' I shrugged, sayin' that a course he didn't not compared to me. To which he said 'Dualscar, I'm motherfuckin' serious' which we all know only has one proper response. So without even thinkin' I said 'Hi, motherfuckin' serious. I'm Dualscar.'

“He stared at me, a frown on his face like he'd just seen the most horrible thing in the Universe until finally he snorted a little laugh.” You sigh softly. “But that was all I got from him. He waved his hand an made me leave.” You yawn, feeling sleep finally overtaking you.

“What happened after that?” His eyes are wide as he gapes up at you, but you're too tired to really do much now.

You mumble something about how he'd thrown you out and you bought a small ship to set sail on your own. You'd abandoned your post that day and you didn't really want to turn back. With a long yawn you can feel yourself drifting off to sleep and mutter words you barely understand yourself, so you know that Eridan probably can't understand you.

Nevertheless you feel him sit up and push your hair back, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before murmuring a goodnight to you.

You realize as your eyes slip shut that your pity for him has been solidified. The boy has stolen your pusher in a way that you never thought would ever happen to you again. You feel him cling to you as you fall to sleep and a soft purr escapes you.

This night has been one to remember and cherish even in your old age, but you make a sleepy note that you should tell him more stories. Later though. All you want now is to sleep here for as long as you possibly can.

**Author's Note:**

> The working title for this was "Hot Twink Fucks Racist Foxy Grandpa"


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